


An Allure to Danger

by LivinLaVidaLisa



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bards, Blushing, Blushing Alistair (Dragon Age), Canon Dialogue, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Ferelden (Dragon Age), Fluff and Angst, Orlais (Dragon Age), POV Alistair (Dragon Age), POV Original Female Character, Past Child Abuse, Post-Blight, Seduction, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:20:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26091775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LivinLaVidaLisa/pseuds/LivinLaVidaLisa
Summary: Alistair was just crowned King of Ferelden. With Theron Mahariel, the Hero of Ferelden, becoming the Warden Commander in Amaranthine, Alistair has felt more than a little lonely. The crown on his head feeling especially heavy, Alistair decides to get some fresh air. On his walk he meets a very interesting woman named Madelyn.Madelyn Ira Lucile-Triage is a bard from Orlais, and she is good at what she does. Her assignment is to make contact with the new King of Ferelden and spy on him. This is Madelyn's biggest job yet, and she is eager to prove to her patron that he was right in trusting her. All she has to do is follow the instructions from the one who hired her and keep a close and "friendly" eye on Alistair.Sorry I'm bad at summaries! Please take this outdated meme instead.Madelyn is a Bard and she has some things to do.1. Seduce the King and spy on him2. Don't fall in love with the King3. Failed step 24. ???5. Profit
Relationships: Alistair & Male Mahariel (Dragon Age), Alistair & Zevran Arainai, Alistair (Dragon Age)/Original Female Character(s)





	1. You're Gonna Carry That Weight

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be a series, I'm not 100% on how long it will turn out to be but I have a rough draft of the whole story written out.  
> As the story progresses I will update the tags. Smut will be added in later chapters. 
> 
> Just so everyone knows POV changes happen after each horizontal line.  
> And scene changes that have the same POV will have a larger space between paragraphs. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The King goes for a walk, and the Bard sets a trap.

It's been five months since Alistair became King of Ferelden and started the effort to rebuild was was left of Denerim and Ferelden. Three months since Mahariel left for Amaranthine to become Warden Commander of the Grey, and two months since Alistair felt any emotion other than extreme stress. Alistair knew being king wasn't going to be easy, but without the support of his friend he has felt the crippling weight of the crown on his head. Alistair couldn't have imagined the true weight the crown would bring. How did Mahariel manage to convince him to do this! Oh that's right, he had said Alistair should look out for himself and start going after things he wanted in life. _What a load of mabari shit that was_ , Alistair thought bitterly. Alistair couldn't blame Mahariel for this, not when he had asked his friend to make him king during the Landsmeet. Alistair let out a heavy sigh. _Now that was stupid._

Alistair stood alone in the corridor of Denerim's castle. Early morning light filtered through the stained-glass windows and shined brightly in his eyes, he allowed the warmth flow through him. A beautiful moment of peace and quiet and all Alistair can focus on is the dread at the pit of his stomach. He just needed to be out somewhere, doing _things._ Just a little walk this morning will improve his mood. Alistair had made a habit of sneaking out of the castle. He'd only go out when he was feeling in particularly agitated, which was every day since a month ago. At first guilt stopped him from leaving too often, but then Mahariel left and Alistair had lost some of his new-found confidence. Getting out of the castle made him feel normal. Like he was still a Grey Warden traveling across Ferelden, going from one destination to another. If it wasn't for all the darkspawn, death, and destruction Alistair would have called it a happier time. He didn't have to travel too far, just far enough to feel like himself, to _just_ be _Alistair_ again.

Wearing discreet and unassuming leathers with a simple sword at his side Alistair managed to blend in with the crowds. He was still new in his public role of being king and not many had the chance to learn his face, aside from those he worked with closely. Every now and then some odd stranger would notice him, a veteran who fought beside him at the final battle, an older woman he and Mahariel had saved from a group ravenous genlocks, and even some alienage elves who saw him defending their homes from hordes of drakspawn. Usually it didn't take much for people to take a hint and let him alone, but sometimes there were those who had _seen him somewhere before_ and insisted they _must have met at one point._ He'd just laugh them off, saying he just had one of those faces. This never seemed to satisfy their curiosity, but they'd eventually leave him be. Alistair enjoyed these exchanges sometimes, but he hoped that he wouldn't be bothered today. He just needed a simple walk to clear his head.

The kitchens were the best exit for Alistair as most of the time he could swipe a snack on the way out. Today, however, before Alistair got there he noticed a runner going into the kitchen. a young man named Joseph, and he was probably looking for him and going to the kitchen was a fair starting point for anyone searching for him. Alistair turned on his heel and started briskly walking away from the kitchens, Joseph was _definitely_ looking for the King. Thankfully, Alistair's second-best exit was free from any persons searching for the King or otherwise. The exit lead him through the stables, Alistair enjoyed the horses, petting them on his way out. They reminded him of his care free childhood. A since of melancholy wedged into his heart. He had felt so miserable at the time, little did young Alistair know there was more misery to come. Alistair lingered in the stables for a moment, stroking his horses’ nose. He knew it was time to go when he heard a door open and an impossibly stubborn young man shouted, "King Alistair! Are you with the horses this morning?" Alistair gave a final pat to his horse, slipped out the back door and started his walk proper. 

This morning Alistair found himself wondering through the back alleys. He had a thought of getting breakfast at the Pearl, his memory told him that their Ferelden pea stew was very good, but he thought better of it. Probably wouldn't do anything good for Eamon's health if Alistair was caught going in there. Or even worse, Eamon might insist on Alistair marrying some noblewoman and start having children. Alistair's cheeks started to feel a little warm. Maybe finding a woman wouldn't be so bad, he did feel lonely and isolated at times. The companionship would be most welcome. But what if this hypothetical noblewoman didn't like him? Thought that he was stupid or unfit to be king? _Maker, I am unfit to be king._ Alistair stopped to ruffle his own hair to rid himself of his thoughts. He stilled and sighed and made a valiant attempt of restyling his hair.

Maybe he didn't have to find a queen just yet and do as Teagan suggested, getting a concubine. Alistair flushed at the thought and felt very warm and continued his aimless walking. It wasn't unheard of for a noble to have a mistress. It was a normal practice for many nobles, he certainly wouldn't be the first king to have one. Alistair had been with a few women since the archdemon was defeated. He had let himself just go for it, and they were lovely people and they had been very nice encounters, but they didn't love him nor he them. And Mahariel had been with him, _why was everything so much easier when Mahariel was around?_ He groaned to himself. Alistair's few encounters could only be described as fleeting affairs. He wanted something more. A connection, someone to talk to when the day had been too quiet. A woman who would laugh at his jokes, even the _really_ bad ones. Someone he could trust to have his back in any circumstance but wouldn't be afraid to tell him when he was wrong. And of course, he wanted to **be** that _person_ for them as well. 

_First,_ he thought, _I'll have to stop walking around like an idiot if I want to find someone who can deal with me for more than five minutes._

Alistair's self-deprecating thoughts were halted when he overheard people talking. Alistair scanned his surrounding but didn't see anyone, he shrugged to himself and kept walking. He strolled past a dark alley when he heard an angry man shout, "get over here, you bitch!" 

"Help! Someone, please!" A woman cried. Alistair unsheathed his sword and sprinted towards the voices, forgetting everything else as he rushed into uncertain danger.

* * *

Late yesterday evening Madelyn, a young woman with hair so blonde that in the right light looked white, and earthly green eyes, casually strolled into the Pearl. She took in the scene. Four men sat at a faraway table playing Wicked Grace. A couple sitting very close together, the woman's hand rested on top of her lover’s thigh. Two guards standing by a door in the back, and a woman standing behind the bar, the proprietor of The Pearl, if Madelyn had to guess. Madelyn is wearing a fine, red dress made of lustrous cotton, she had bright red lipstick and smoky eye shadow. All in the room paused to look at her, the attention gave her a wicked thrill, but she kept her face neutral. Her clothes showed she had the gold to spend, her posture an indication of her noble birth, and her every movement was being devoured by her ravenous audience. _I suppose I should give the people what they want._ She flashed a warm and inviting smile to the men playing cards as she walked up to the woman behind the bar. All four men gawked at her perversely. She got to the bar and leaned into it and arched her back, showing off her _assets_ to those behind her. She grinned innocently at the proprietress and asked, "excuse me miss, but I'm new in town and, frankly, quite lost. Is this an inn? Might I rent a room?" 

The proprietress scoffs, "this is a brothel, my lady," she corrects. "I'm afraid the closest establishment with rooms is the Gnawed Noble Tavern in the market district."

"Oh dear," Madelyn feigns worry, forcing a blush to color her cheeks. She timidly looks up to the brunette woman, "do you think I could still get a room here? Um just the room that is. It is getting awfully late and I've been wondering around Denerim for hours. I'd be willing to pay you for your trouble, and any... loss of business due to my occupation of your space."

"Very well, I won't just turn you out to the streets, not as long as your gold is good. I'm not running a charity you know."

"Oh, thank you miss! Here are five sovereigns, and do you have any food? I'm simply starving." The proprietress, Sanga she learned, served Madelyn a bowl of hot Ferelden pea stew with a roll of bread. The soup was the oddest shade of grey and the bread almost as hard as a brick, _I guess people don't come here for the food._ Madelyn made a show of paying for her food and tipping very well for the service. The men had all stopped playing their game and openly stared at her like she was a halla and they were a pack of wolves. _Good,_ she thought. She wanted to be seen as prey, a helplessly lost rich woman from out of town was an easy target for any reason or goal. Madelyn was sure the louts in the back were thoroughly incited. 

Madelyn mindlessly took a sip of her soup, _oh that's actually pretty good._ She made small talk with Sanga, told her how she was going to the castle and asked for directions. After a while Madelyn excused herself to her room. Making an effort to sway her hips just so. She didn't need to look back to know starving eyes watched her intently. 

Madelyn Ira Lucile-Triage placed her things in her room, she didn’t bother to unpack everything. She placed a dull cotton dress on the love-seat then carefully removed her red dress and placed it next to the dull one. Standing in just her plain white slip dress she saw across the room was a vanity, sitting there she washed her face removing all her makeup and then brushed her hair, starting with small strokes at the tips and gently working her way up. Madelyn stared at herself in the mirror during her ministrations. She had never thought herself very beautiful, nor terribly ugly. She knew how to blend in to her surroundings and how to stand out. As a proud Orlesian bard, she was determined to be the best at everything. She was taught to be no less. Madelyn’s native tongue was common, but she also spoke Orlesian fluently. Although, her benefactor would criticize her Orlesian accent, saying she sounded simply barbaric. She avoids speaking it when she can, but she wasn’t in Ferelden to speak Orlesian.

All bards have a patron or benefactor, someone to support their early career. Usually this patron was also a bard training young blood to take over the game. For Madelyn Lord Pascal Bernard Pon Lucile-Triage was her benefactor and her adoptive father. He was an Orlesian noble-born, sixth son of Lord Gaetan and Lady Beatrice, and was last in line for the Lucile-Triage family business and fortune. Lord Pascal trained to be a bard at an early age and ruthlessly fought his way up until he was the _only_ heir for the Lucile-Triage family. Many held suspicions at the sudden succession in his family and speculated his mother’s Antivan roots were deeply bedded in him, none could truly appreciate the grueling years of training and dangerous plots in playing the game he had to endure. None save Madelyn could admire his work, he had taught her everything she knew. He had put her through the same rigorous training and she had met his every expectation. _Well, I tried to anyway._

She was young and still inexperienced as a bard. Lord Pascal had kept her on a very short leash growing up and had always monitored her actions when he would allow her to do a mission. He was very harsh and criticized her often at the smallest mistakes, but even one insignificant flaw in her performance could mean her death. Madelyn knew he had only cared for her, wanted her to be the best and to succeed. And this mission was her chance to prove to him that she was ready.

Lord Pascal was approached by a noble from Ferelden to spy on the newly crowned King. Apparently, some didn’t take well to the change in management. Odd, however, that a Ferelden would willingly seek the aid of an Orlesian Bard, considering their bloody history and the general distaste for the game in the south. Madelyn shrugged to herself in the mirror, it wasn’t her place to question the job. Abandoning her hair brush, Madelyn started to braid her long pale hair.

Her job was simple, make contact with their King and spy on him. She knew little else of the job, who was paying them, or what their motivation was, nor did it matter to her. What Madelyn did know was that this King had frequent, and unguarded, walks through Denerim. This made for a perfect opportunity for the two of them to informally meet. Madelyn smiled at herself, happy with her hair and seamless plan.

There was no doubt in her mind that everything would go as planned tomorrow. The louts who did not hide their desire will follow and attack her just as the noble King Alistair would be strolling by. Madelyn would play the part of a damsel and throw herself at the King. She stood from the vanity and took a proper look around the room. No windows, understandable for a brothel, Madelyn will have to sneak out of the room early and tiptoe back in when no one is looking. She wouldn’t let her plan fail just because the King decided to take another route, Madelyn would do well to silently guide him the alley near the Pearl. She must get as much rest as she can tonight, tomorrow will be a busy day.

Early the next morning Madelyn had managed to pull on her dull dress and secretly left the Pearl to secure the King’s attendance for his timely rescue. Lord Pascal had set Madelyn up with a job at the castle. She would be their bard, an unassuming musical one. She would get close to him from there and gather as much information she could. Any bard could waltz in and own the floor and be the center of attention and become a trusted confidant to any, but Madelyn wanted the King to _trust_ her. That meant allowing him to _help_ her, or at least let him think he was.

It was a risk to deviate from Lord Pascal’s plan, but Madelyn had a feeling that this King Alistair would be far more open in a setting he was familiar with. She knew he was the bastard son of the late King Maric, raised in Redcliffe, trained to be templar in an abbey, and then conscripted into the Grey Wardens. He was a man that grew up common and was raised to fight all his life. Being King doesn’t sit well with a man like that. Why else would he leave his castle and walk around with the common people? He must feel isolated. His closest friend and ally, the Hero of Ferelden, left to become the Warden Commander. There must be no one else he feels like he could turn to, not emotionally. How lonely he must be indeed.

A frown worked its way on to Madelyn’s face, but she quickly schooled her features. There’s no point in feeling sorry for someone like him. _You’re going in to spy on him, Madelyn. You’re probably going to have to kill him eventually. These things always end up like that, don’t get sentimental now._ She lightly slapped herself on both cheeks to refocus her attention on her task.

First, she made inconspicuous blockades to point any fool in correct direction. Anyone with half a mind would simply follow along the road and not stray, not wanting to disturb or put forth the effort of going through such obstacles.

Next, she had to find her target. Watching for when he left the castle, _if_ he left the castle today. Her sources said he took his walks often enough, but what door he used was not always the same. Madelyn made a gamble and set herself up near the stables, there was two known exits she could see from her hiding place. One was through the horse stables and then further down was a servant’s door. Madelyn smiled to herself when she saw a man with reddish-blond hair and a warrior’s build slip out of the stables and walk towards her crafted pathway. _This is going splendidly well._

No, it is going well _so far._ Madelyn’s smile faded from her face. _This must go perfectly._ With no time to lose, Madelyn trailed behind Alistair keeping to the shadows, silent and hidden.

She had followed him for a time, watching him ruffle and then fix his own hair. The action amused her. It was always funny seeing how people acted when they thought no one was watching. Alistair seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, and not a single care for his surroundings. _He wouldn't last two days in Orlais,_ she mused.

King Alistair was more attractive than she had been led to believe. He had been described as a very Ferelden looking fellow, with a very _Ferelden_ nose. _What did that even mean?_ Madelyn was, by all biological accounts, Ferelden herself. And she certainly didn’t have a _Ferelden_ nose. Besides, Madelyn thought his nose was quite handsome and suited his face. They weren’t wrong about his build. He was a sturdy looking man, he could take a hit. _I wonder how he looks without his shirt,_ she entertained herself with thoughts of his training regime. How his rippling muscles would gleam in the afterglow of his workout. His hair would be delightfully tussled, and he’d smooth it back slowly as sweat dripped from his brow onto his battle-scar ridden chest.

Realizing how close he was getting to the Pearl, she begrudgingly ended her daydream there. _Later,_ she promised herself.

Madelyn let Alistair get a little further away before she rucked up her dress skirts and started to climb up a gutter drain pulling herself onto a roof top. Swiftly, she hopped from one roof to the next, moving ahead of Alistair without his notice. She found her makeshift ladder and descended behind the Pearl. It was simple enough for her to slip back into her room. She quickly reapplied her makeup, no time for anything too fancy. _Don’t want to show the King all my cards._ She removed her dull dress, throwing it in her bag, and slipped back into her red dress. Grabbing her already packed things, she walked to the front saying good-bye to Sanga and thanking her for her hospitality.

Madelyn was pleased to see the four men were back and their gaze following her every movement. She flashed them a friendly smile and walked out of the Pearl. Noting that the King wasn't too far away, she acted as if she were lost taking a "wrong" turn down a dark alley, facing a dead end. She wasn't surprised to hear several foots steps following behind her. "Oi, there seems to be a lost kitten here." One of them assumed.

Madelyn made a show of gasping and clutched her heart, "Oh! You startled me, Ser."

The four men blocked the only exit and leered at her, toothy grins smearing across each of their faces. "Nothing to fear from us, kitten. Why don't you be good and come play with us?" Slowly, they started to move in on her. 

"No, I have some where to be. I'm expected. Please..." Madelyn took two steps back from the approaching men. 

The tall man with dull red hair, who seemed to be the leader of these poor sods, launched himself at Madelyn. She effortlessly evaded his attempt to grapple her, spinning gracefully out of the way making her attacker fall face first into the dirt. "Get over here, you bitch!" He shouted, scrambling back to his feet.

"Help! Someone, please!" She screamed, knowing full well her "rescuer" would be on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's title is a reference to CowBoy Bebop.  
> I recently re-watched it with my mom and it was stuck in my brain and I felt it could be applied here well enough.
> 
> Oh and the title of the series (An Allure to Danger) is based off of Alistair's dialogue with Leliana about bards.


	2. Lying by Omission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lonely King and the mysterious Bard meet.  
> Has the King finally found a companion? Or did he simply fall for the Bard's trap?

Alistair followed the shouting voices into a dark alley where he spotted four men attacking an unarmed woman. One man was behind her, holding her arms behind her back. Another was violently pulling a dress out of a bag, _that’s probably hers_. A greasy brute was crouched on the ground, his hands were slowly sliding up the woman’s legs rucking up her dress skirts. Then a tall man with dull red hair pinched the woman’s chin forcing her to look at him, “now, kitten, you had better play nice or _else._ ” With his other hand he violently clutched at the woman’s breast. She closed her eyes tight and let out an indignant yelp.

“Unhand her!” Alistair demanded. Anger boiled his blood as he watched the brutes whip their heads his way. He brandished his sword, showing that he was _not_ asking. Light hit the blade of his sword, making almost glow in the shadowy passage way.

“What? You gonna make us? Piss off!” The greasy man scoffed at Alistair from where he stooped. The other men laughed with him.

“Last chance let her go and I’ll let you all walk away, and we’ll all live happily ever after. At least till lunch time.” The tall man pulled a dagger from his waistband, “oh, of course.” Alistair rolled his eyes. “No one ever wants to do this the easy way, did they?”

“Get em!” Mr. tall, red, and scary shouted. The greasy lout pealed his hands from the woman’s legs and stood with the other brute who was rummaging through the bag. They launched themselves at Alistair, baring their knives toward him. First the bag man came and thrust his blade toward Alistair. He easily side-stepped the man and bashed the back of his head with his sword, effectively knocking the man to the dirt.

The greasy fellow was next, aiming his dagger at Alistair’s side. Alistair was quick to pull up his sword in time to clip the dagger out of the man’s hand. The knife spun in the air and landed at the greasy man’s feet, he looked at Alistair with wide eyes and gaping mouth.

“What? You think I carried this-” Alistair flourished his sword in a wide circle, “around for nothing?” The man knelt to the ground to retrieve his dagger, but Alistair stomped his foot on it and as the man raised his eyes to see him Alistair bludgeoned him in the head with the hilt of his sword, knocking him out cold.

“What’re you waiting for?! Go get em!” Mr. red shouted at the one holding the woman’s arms. He grabbed the woman by her arm and forced her in front of him and held his dagger to her throat.

The first man recovered, blood dripping from his wounded head, and came at Alistair from behind while the third sprinted toward him at the front. Alistair took a few strides toward the man in front of him, and at the last moment tucked himself in and rolled to the right, his attackers crashed into each other. The third man hollered in pain as the first slumped to the ground. The first man’s dagger was imbedded into the third’s leg. “Oh, Maker! My leg!” The third man gripped his thigh where the knife stuck out, “Let’s get out of here!” He started to limp away as the other two slowly stood and followed.

“You cowards! Get back here an finish em off!” The red haired shouted from behind the woman, his dagger still at her slender neck.

“You do it, you blighted fool! We ain’t gonna die for a piece of arse, Conroy!” The other three men staggered away as quickly as they could. Sweat poured from the tall man’s brow, his knife trembling dangerously close to the woman’s skin. Alistair pointed his blade at him and took a cautious step forward.

“Get back! I’ll kill her!” His grip on the woman tightened causing her to wince.

“Easy! Easy now! Just release her, and I’ll let you walk away.” Alistair knew if he said the wrong thing or miss stepped this poor woman would pay the price for it, his own forehead started to mist with sweat. Alistair chanced a look at the woman, she was _understandably_ frightened. Her eyes were blown wide her lip trembled and she focused all her attention on Alistair. _Maker, she’s pretty._ Her hair was mussed, her red dress was wrinkled, and terror seized her entire body, but she had an intelligent gleam in her eyes. Alistair gave her what he hopped looked like a _reassuring_ nod. His heart beat rapidly in his chest as the tall man's eyes darted feverishly from Alistair to the jittering knife in the man's own hand.

Conroy, _apparently his name was,_ kicked the back of the woman's knee sending her crashing to the ground. He gripped her pale hair and forced her head back and looked Alistair in the eye. He held a crazed look, Alistair couldn't tell what he was going to do, and something told him Conroy didn't know either. Alistair tried to take another step closer, but Conroy jeered away pulling the woman with him. "That's it! You asked for it!" Conroy shook his dagger at Alistair before pulling back to the woman's neck, trying to make a show out of him slitting her throat. But before He could go through with it, and before Alistair could even think to react, the woman suddenly wrapped her hands around Conroy's forearm and pulled him down while also pushing up with her legs. This caused him to flip in front of her on his back while simultaneously allowed her to get back on her feet. 

There was a sickening thud when Conroy landed, a force of air leaving the man's lungs. He didn't make another sound and laid there motionless. Alistair tore his gaze from the pathetic man to the woman, she was looking down at her attacker. Her brow was furrowed, and her full pink lips bowed into a snarl. Her chest was heaving for breath, and a few dew drops of sweat graced her brow. Alistair quickly decided that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her eyes flickered from Conroy to Alistair, as if she was just now realizing she had tossed a full-grown man over her shoulder. Her mouth dropped open like she was going to say something, then her cheeks started to glow an attractive shade of red. Dropping her face into her open palms she muffled, _"oh, Maker,"_ under her breath. 

Her sudden bashful nature ripped a laugh from him. She was quick to shoot him an indignant glare, which only made him laugh harder. Her face was a bright crimson and her hands now clutched at the low-cut collar of her frock. She pouted, "Don't laugh! I could have died!"

* * *

The King was standing there laughing away at her as another man lay, possibly dead, on the ground. _Maker's balls, I've ruined everything!_ Her instincts had kicked in, she didn't want to die or get cut up, but her mistake may have just cost her cover. Madelyn held on to the front of her dress, in the scuffle Conroy managed to hook his fingers in the collar of her dress and ripped the fabric. _Andraste's flaming sword, I just got this dress!_

He sheathes his sword and wipes a few mirthful tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry," he says, not sounding very sorry at all. "Forgive me my lady, are you alright?" 

"I-" Madelyn is cut off by an unintelligible moaning sound escaping from Conroy's chapped lips. "Oh! Maker!" Madelyn took a few long strides away from Conroy towards the opening of the alley way, near Alistair. 

"Huh, I thought you killed him with that last move." Madelyn returned her gaze to Alistair, who was staring at her with a broad and goofy grin on his face. Conroy made another unpleasant groan. "Ah- maybe we should just... go? Before he wakes up and becomes a problem, again." Alistair offered his hand to her. 

_Maybe I haven't ruined everything._ Madelyn timidly smiled and took his hand, it was warm and his large fingers wrapped around her hand gently. His hand is calloused and scared, indicators of a man who had worked hard and fought harder his whole life. He lead her to the opening of the alley way when Madelyn remembered something. "Oh... Umm," Madelyn paused, Alistair looks back at her with a raised eyebrow. "My bag..." Madelyn frowned. 

"Ah! Of course! Wait here." King Alistair jogged back into the dark alley and started to pick her things up around the unconscious Conroy. Madelyn suppressed a giggle when Alistair found a pair of her small clothes, he made a strained squeak noise with his throat and tried to hide it with a cough. Shoving the dainty under-things into her bag. 

_The King is shy, very nice, I can use that._ "Thank you," Madelyn called back to him, "for picking up my things and for saving me back there." Madelyn tore the rip at the front of her dress a little further, causing it to be scandalously low.

"Oh! That," Alistair chuckled, "I'm sure if they hadn't caught you by surprise you probably would've been able to take them all down yourself." He said earnestly.

It was true, those three idiots could barely tell the difference between the hilt and the pointy end. "Oh, I doubt that, Ser! Truly, you're a hero!"

"Don't sell yourself short. You've got incredible skill, I can tell." Alistair turned his head toward her, his face now wearing a cocky smirk, "you used your back as a base mount and managed to throw him off balance with the combined force of your arms and legs. That was- well it was amazing to see!" Alistair's grin broadened, Madelyn's heart started to beat a little harder at that. "You're very clever, I wouldn't have thought of doing something like that. Really, you saved yourself." Alistair shrugged, "I just helped," he said while folding her dull dress into her bag and then continued his search.

"Still, you were a very big help." Madelyn adjusted her dress awkwardly, she wasn't used to getting complements like that. Usually they were comments on her face, or body, or somewhere more lewd. His words made her feel uncomfortably happy. 

Alistair gave the area a final look around, making sure he didn't miss anything and quickly came back and handed her the bag. "There. Hopefully everything is accounted for," he flashed her a boyish grin.

"Thank you, really I-" Madelyn took her bag from him, and _accidentally_ revealed her cleavage to him thanks to the deep tear at her collar, she heard him take a sharp breath. Alistair politely averted his gaze, but had gotten quite the eye full if his blush was any indication. Madelyn pretended to be embarrassed and held her bag against her chest. She looked up at him from and angle making herself look sheepish. Alistair's cheeks had a light dusting of pink, and was doing a his best to look at her anywhere but her chest, even if it was now covered by her bag.

"I'm sorry about your dress, my lady. I could um... turn around? Or something?" He turned his head away and scratched the back of his neck. Madelyn was expecting the King to be a warrior, a man who had seen the worst Thedas had to offer and didn't waver. He was a Grey Warden, a hero from the Fifth Blight after all. She wasn't prepared for this battle-worn veteran to be so awkward, and endearing, and charming, and- _Madelyn, focus!_

"It's alright, but I really can't walk around like this can I?" She laughed but it seemed to make Alistair even more nervous. His eyes darted around trying to think of a solution for her. Madelyn grinned at that and looked around herself and spotted an alcove a short distance away. "Look over there, If you wouldn't mind standing guard, I could change into my other dress?" 

Alistair turned his head to where she was pointing, "Yes, of course!" They walked to the alcove and Madelyn stepped in side and turned to face Alistair, he was watching her the blush still plainly on his face. "I'll just ah- stand over here." Alistair turned on his heel and faced away from her. He kept his hand on the hilt of his sword and seemed to fully accept his roll as her guard for the moment. 

"I won't take long, not to worry." She said while pealing off her ruined red dress. _A crime shame._ Madelyn had just purchased this dress before she left Orlais. It was a simple yet elegant traveling dress. It was flirty yet practical and hugged her curves just right. Hopefully she could find a decent replacement. She rolled her eyes, _doubtful I'll find anything decent in Ferelden._

"Take your time, my lady." He hummed to himself a moment, it was a Ferelden song she could tell but nothing more than that. Madelyn prided herself on her ability to memorize stories and songs in a short time, and she had studied everything she could on Ferelden folklore yet she couldn't place this song. Perhaps it was just a made up ditty, she mused, _or he's remembering it wrong._ His humming abruptly stopped. "By the way, may I ask for your name? I can't just keep calling you _my lady_ all the time." Alistair paused and scratched the back of his head, "unless you want me to, that is?"

Madelyn couldn't stop her giggle at his unsure tone, "I am Madelyn." She slipped on the dull dress, unhappy with how plain and boring it made her look, and she frowned, "may I know my rescuer's name?" 

Alistair's body went ridged, from where Madelyn stood she saw that his jaw had clenched and could faintly see that his Adam's apple had bobbed up and down. "Just call me Alistair." He said after a pause.

She noted the lack of his title and family name, “ _Alistair…”_ Madelyn paused and hummed thoughtfully, “why does that sound so familiar?” She asked as she folded her red dress and placed it into her bag.

"Uh just one of those names I guess. Ha!” He awkwardly fiddled with the hilt of his sword. Doing his best to not seem as suspicious as he was.

 _He doesn’t want me to know he’s King?_ Does he wish to keep his anonymity with a stranger like her? “I’m not so sure… Hmm. Oh, well.” She sighed, “I’m sure it’ll come to me later, regardless.” Madelyn walked out of the alcove and tapped Alistair on the shoulder. He jolted slightly and turned around to see, he seemed to relax a little as he met her eyes. His bashful smile told her he was relieved that the subject was dropped. “I am very pleased to meet you, Alistair.” Smiling at him she bowed her head and gripped the skirts of her "new" dress to give him a short curtsy. Alistair’s grin grew to match hers.

“Likewise.” He said softly, he cleared his throat. “So, I haven't seen you around Denerim before. What brings you here? Certainly not the sights." Alistair gestured toward several piles of rubble and debris left behind after the final battle with the archdemon and its army of darkspawn.

"No, not the sights." Madelyn agreed _._ If the _King_ didn’t feeling like sharing maybe she could loosen him up a bit with a little information about _Madelyn._ "I actually came here for work."

"Really?" He perks up. "As a soldier? I'm afraid you're a few months late for glory if that's what you're searching for."

“I’m afraid not.” She giggled. “I’ll be working for some noble, I had jumped at the chance to start a new life.”

“In my experience when someone says they’re _starting a new life_ what they mean is they’re running from their old one.” Alistair regarded her curiously.

Madelyn hummed in thought, Alistair wasn’t a fool. He was perceptive and intelligent. _I’ll have to have a word with my sources, they’ve barely got anything right about him!_ “More like trying to find my roots. I was raised in Orlais, Jader specifically.” Madelyn turned somber. “I was born and raised on a Ferelden farm. I was very young when my family was attacked by bandits. They burned down our farm. My family was all-” the memory of her mother’s lifeless body laying limp on the wooden floor flashed in her mind. Madelyn shut her eyes tight and took a steady breath. “I was the only one who survived.”

“Maker, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. That was thoughtless of me.” His brow was upturned, and he had a sad puppy dog look in his eyes.

Madelyn smiled ruefully at him, “it’s alright. There’s no shortage of sad stories in Ferelden. Especially after, well, you know.” Madelyn gestured to the piles of rubble just as Alistair had a moment ago. Alistair hummed in agreement. _Maker, this is depressing._ “Ferelden is much bigger than I remember though, I can’t seem to find anything in this place. Any chance you know where I could buy a new dress?”

“Yes! I can show you around a bit, in fact. It’s the least I can do.” Alistair jumped at the chance for a subject change once again.

 _Time to play a little hard to get,_ Madelyn smiled. “I couldn’t impose on you like that. I fear I've already taken much of your time already.”

“Please, impose away. There are worse things than escorting a beautiful woman, and I was just taking a walk anyway.” A lopsided grin spread across his face as he held out his arm for her to take.

“Very well, thank you, good Ser.” Madelyn wove her arm around his and smiled broadly at him. She noted a blush creeping on his face and ignored the heat forming creeping on her cheeks. “So, you think I’m beautiful?” Alistair sputtered and looked away in embarrassment. They both walked arm in arm, his face growing a darker shade of red with every step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first two chapters were posted together for fun and also to celebrate the DA4 news yesterday! 🤩 Riveting stuff!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3ZJPvKbUgOA
> 
> I'll try to keep this updated on a regular schedule. With future updates coming on Monday's or Friday's noonish PST.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Just Us in Denerim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair shows Madelyn around Denerim.
> 
> OR
> 
> King on cusp of having fun suddenly remembers every single one of his responsibilities.

"Welcome to Denerim's Market District, they say you can get anything here. I once got pick-pocketed. Probably best you keep an eye on your coin purse," Alistair announced enthusiastically. Madelyn laughed, her smile lite her face up crinkling her eyes. They were blue _, no green, a little of both?_ Her eyes were mostly blue, but when the light hit them just right Alistair could see waves of green deep within the blue. He had thought her hair was stark white in the alley, but the moment she stepped into the sun he saw the light golden hue in the long strands of her silky hair. 

"Maker, I can get _anything_ here? What about my own personal golem? Qunari gaatlok? Oh! a pinch of ash from Andraste's sacred urn?" Madelyn pressed the tips her index finger and her thumb together and waved it at him teasingly.

"Hmm, I'm afraid they'll have to change the slogan to "you can get _almost_ anything here." 

"Oh, well. I supposed I'll have to settle on just a dress then." She sighed, feigning disappointment. 

"There, there." He patted her hand in mock comfort, "you know I think the Wonders of Thedas does carry miniature golem dolls, if you're interested." He peered down at her trying not to crack a smile, and probably failing at it. Her face lit up before she stifled her laugh into her hand. They both walked arm in arm giggling to each other, Alistair couldn't remember the last time he felt so weightless. _Maker, when was the last time I had any fun?_ The morning was ticking away, but Alistair knew he still had at least a few more hours before he was needed back at the castle. He'd get an earful from Eamon, but Alistair was willing to suffer through it. He watched Madelyn, her lips curled into a broad smile and saw mirth bright in her eyes. Nothing Eamon could say would make Alistair regret spending his morning with her.

Alistair started to lead her to a shop he knew carried clothing but paused when he heard a familiar voice, "Alistair!" A man called out to him, Alistair twisted his head to see Slim Couldry, an elf-blooded thief who targeted nobles. Not all nobles, just the sods who deserved it. He'd never target Alistair, at least he didn't think so. Slim caught up to them and gave Alistair a friendly slap on the arm Madelyn wasn't occupying, "how are you?"

"Slim! I'm well. What are you up to?" Alistair asked nervously, he had a feeling he didn't want to know based off of the smug grin peeling up the man's face.

"Oh, you know. Same shite, different day." His eyes flickered towards Madelyn, "and where’s my manners, names Slim Couldry, my lady. And you are?" He held a hand out for her.

She smiled politely at him and let go of Alistair's arm to shake his hand. Alistair immediately missed the warmth of her arm around his. "Madelyn. It's a pleasure. Are you a vendor here or are you shopping?" She asked innocently. A chill of fear ran up Alistair's spine.

 _Maker, if Slim tells her what he does and how I know him she’s going to think I'm a thug! Why did Mahariel have to drag me with him to commit all those crimes!_ Slim was looking at Alistair he shifted his eyes to Madelyn and then back to Alistair, attempting to communicate with Alistair. Out of Madelyn's view Alistair shook his head no, praying to the Maker Slim knew what _not_ to say.

Slim looked at her for a moment, almost as if he was studying her. Alistair started to feel a little offended himself and looked to Madelyn for any discomfort. She stood tall and wore a pleasant face she'd give any stranger. Not like the joyful smiles she shared with Alistair thus far. The thought of Alistair being even a little special to her oddly pleased him. Slim chucked, bringing Alistair's attention back on to him. "Today I'm just a customer. Thought I'd peruse the stalls when I saw good ol' Alistair here." Slim, once again, pat Alistair on his arm. "I just came to say hello. Anyway, good seeing ya, Alistair. Keep your nose clean, you hear?" Slim waved goodbye and gave Alistair a wink.

Alistair quietly sighed in relief when Slim was out of sight. _Keep your nose clean._ Alistair was familiar with that saying. Mahariel and Slim had created several different codes for certain _illicit_ jobs. He remembered that calling _bagsy_ meant that they found their confirmed target, and they'd be the ones to knock them out or kill them if necessary. _Chock-a-block_ was called when there was too many witnesses around to complete the mission. The short ones Alistair could remember, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what _keep your nose clean_ meant. Alistair supposed Slim could have meant it in the traditional way, or even the literal way. Alistair self-consciously rubbed his sleeve against his nose.

"He seemed nice." Madelyn spoke up after a moment of silence. Her blueish green eyes peered up at him.

"He is," Alistair agreed. "Incidentally, you should probably avoid him, at least avoid intimate company with him." Alistair saw her eyebrow arch quizzically. "NO. I mean- not like that! But, well, yes like that. Not that I'm telling you who you can and can’t be intimate with!" Alistair ran a hand through his hair and the heat in his face was practically scalding. "You see," Alistair took a deep breath to reign in his embarrassment. "What I mean is, Slim is a good friend. But. He is also involved in a lot of illicit activities. Basically, he spies on rich individuals, and if he thinks they need to be knocked down a peg, then he'll offer information on them. Selling their secrets to other thieves so they can hit them where it hurts, their coffers usually. Unless you wanted to start stealing from rich sods you probably want to keep your distance from him." He chucked to himself.

"Oh. I see," she paused thoughtfully. "Is that what you do?" She finally asked.

"What? Oh! No! I- uh know him through a friend. I don’t steal from people. Usually." He hurriedly explained. 

Madelyn laughed, "you're saying you steal _sometimes._ " 

"Well." Alistair joined her laughter, "the mutual friend in question wasn’t always a good influence. And besides, I hadn’t even thought about it since the blight ended." Alistair shrugged. "We only took from those who supported that traitor Loghain." Even though Loghain had died on Alistair's blade, the memory of the man's betrayal still burned him. Alistair didn’t realize his hand was tightly wound in a fist. He released his fingers and shook it off. 

"Were you involved in the civil war then?" She leaned toward him. 

Alistair was surprised to see she was standing closer to him than before, and even more shocked that she was still interested in his company. Considering how they just met, Alistair would have expected her to be far more weary of him at his admission. "You could say that." He rubbed the back of his neck. He should really tell her who he is. Or what he is, but the way she smiled openly and spoke freely with him. Alistair wasn’t ready for this to end. Not just yet. It's nice feeling normal again.

Madelyn clasped her hands together excitedly, "I bet you were a fine hero that fought bravely against the teyrn!" She all but glowed at him. "I can tell you're a chivalrous man who fights against injustice." Her eyes shimmered when she looked up at him. "I have a very good intuition about these kinds of things."

"I don’t know about all that." He awkwardly chuckled feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Fine. Fine. Keep your secrets." She teased him and found his arm, weaving hers into his. Her frame was small against his, but she was warm and soft. She looked up at him gleefully, "I'll just get to make do with hanging off my rescuer’s arm then. Now, don’t you have a shop to show me, Hero?" Madelyn gently squeezed the muscle in Alistair's arm, a blush quickly rose to his cheeks as he led them to their destination.

Soupe de Soie was a small shop run by an older Orlesian couple. They had come with the Grey Wardens who marched to Amaranthine to help Mahariel rebuild a Warden presence in Ferelden. The shop had all kinds of garments from fine ritual robes to practical traveling leathers. Alistair hadn't visited this place often. Just once before his coronation when he needed something suitable to wear before he had something specially crafted for him. He was advised to get white silk robes with a brilliant red humeral veil that was embroidered with golden mabari imagery. Alistair was assured that the vestments were fit for the most regal of nobility. It made him feel like a royal idiot.

He watched Madelyn’s eyes light up when she stepped inside. Her hands ran across the decadent clothes enjoying the feel of every fiber across her skin. Alistair wondered for a second what it would be like to be the cloth she tenderly stroked. Her hands instead running through his hair and down his chest and enjoying the feel of him. The sound of her joyful squealing ripped him from his reprieve. He turned away embarrassed of his own shameless thoughts. _You just met her, Alistair. She definitely doesn’t want that kind of attention from a stranger after what she went through!_

"Thank you for bringing me here!" She ran to him hugged around his middle and buried her face into his chest. Alistair suddenly forgot how to use his arms and just stood there looking foolish. Madelyn tilted her head up to look at him and sheepishly smiled, “would you mind helping me pick out a new dress? I’m terribly ill-informed on what the current fashion in Ferelden is like and I’d like a second opinion. As long as you don’t mind?”

“No.” He said softly. Alistair was lost in the warmth of her embrace. She smelled of dawn lotus and something, elfroot, and something distinctly _her._ The disappointment in her face made him realize what he had said. “I mean no, I don’t mind!” He finally remembered he had hands and gently rested them on her shoulders, “I’ll help anyway I can. Although, I can’t say I’m well versed in fashion trends myself.” He knew his blush must have been horribly apparent, but her relieved smile made him not care about it so much.

“Thank you!” She gave him a final squeeze before she pulled away, the loss of her warmth made Alistair feel a bit lonely somehow, but she turned to him and her smile warmed him again. Madelyn held up a couple dresses she had picked out. “I’ll just put these on. All you must do is tell me what _you_ think looks good. Okay?” Alistair just nodded dumbly.

Madelyn disappeared behind heavy velvet curtains. He could hear her shuffling around in the small changing room. Alistair found a nearby bench and sat. Madelyn started to hum quietly, she was only interrupted when the sounds of her unlacing her ties and pulling her dress off. Alistair remembered the sight of her bare legs; thick thighs were revealed from underneath her dress skirts. Creamy skin welcoming his touch. He imagined the contrast between his rough palms against her soft skin. Large hands would greedily roam her legs from the tip of her toes up to her luscious thighs cupping her plump arse. _Idiot stop thinking like that._ Alistair shook his head to focus. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking of her so provocatively. Madelyn had just been attacked today, vile men had already violated her body. _She wouldn’t welcome my touch, hero or no._ A sharp twinge of shame made his heart heavy. Alistair sank his head down into the palms of his hands. Rubbing his face, he tried to rid himself of his unwanted thoughts. However, the image of her dress rucked up baring the expanse of her legs to him, her lips bowed in a joyful smile for him kept teasing and tormenting his mind's eye.

His head jolted up when he heard the curtains open.

* * *

The look on his face was _priceless._

Madelyn now wore a delicate light blue dress. It was sleeveless and backless and tied behind her neck, the skirt was split in front of each leg with the back skirt wreathed to the front. Stepping out of the dressing room Madelyn twirled for Alistair, the skirts pulling dangerously high. A blush the shade of vermilion was already smeared across his face. Alistair payed close attention to her legs with her every step. His eyes roamed up from her legs to her arse and up her back. He parted his lips as his gaze fluttered from her neck to her face.

Madelyn knew what he was thinking. His ridged posture, blushing face, and broad grin all gave him away. The way he flexed his hands, desperate to feel her skin on his. He licked his lips and let out shuttered breath as Madelyn made her final turn, placing her hand on her hip. His eyes were blown wide with desire. He wanted her. Madelyn did her best not to give him a wicked smile, but her flirty lips curled at her one-man audience anyway. “Well? What do you think?”

He gaped at her for a second before regaining his senses. “Beautiful! The dress- uh looks quite beautiful on you.” Alistair covered his moth with his hand, possibly an attempt to hide his growing blush from her. A useless endeavor, but a cute one at least.

She smiled happily at the praise. “Really?” Madelyn spotted a full body mirror opposite from Alistair and she stood in front of it, inspecting herself. Slowly, she slightly twisted herself in front of the mirror and placed her hand at the top of her collar bone. “You don’t think it’s too revealing?” Her eyes darted from her own to Alistair’s reflected in the mirror. His eyes were fixated on the curve of her arse.

“Not at all.” He said wistfully, eyes roving up from her behind to her back appreciatively. “I think that dress was made for you.” Alistair's eyes finally met hers in the mirror, his smile dimmed when he realized he’d been caught ogling her, but his blush only grew. His eye brows arched and started to sputter an apology, but Madelyn only laughed at him.

“I’ll have to put this one in the definitely maybe pile.” She teased him.

“Definitely _maybe?_ You’re not getting that one?” Alistair asked, sounding more than a little disappointed.

“This was just the first I’ve tried on,” Madelyn turned to face him and placed both hands on her hips, “we might find another dress we like better.” She didn't try to hide her wicked grin this time and Alistair responded in kind, his lips curled up showing his interest in the idea.

Every dress Madelyn tried on Alistair seemed to love. He tried not to stare at her hindquarters, but he clearly couldn’t stop himself. And when Madelyn would catch him he would blush and give her his signature lopsided grin. Normally, such obvious leering would have irritated Madelyn. She’s had targets who were far more discreet about their piercing gazes, and _they all_ had annoyed her to no end. Madelyn would spend hours at a time pretending she adored the attention, and that she _didn't_ want to pluck their offensive eye balls out. However, Alistair’s open looks of admiration mixed in with his boyish bashfulness had endeared him to her. He was very charming in his own way, she thought. 

At the end of her private fashion show with the King, Madelyn decided to buy the first blue dress she tried on and another simple red dress for everyday wear. It was similar to her old red dress but not quite the same. The new one’s collar wasn’t cut as low and the shade of red was less vibrant. The quality was there but none of the sultry finesse. _It’ll have to do._

Madelyn had draped both dressed across her arm and Alistair quirked an eyebrow at her. “You’re getting both?” He asked.

“I wanted to get a new dress for my new job in the first place." Madelyn shrugged, "One is a replacement for my ruined one.” She held up the new red dress to him, “and the other is a fancy new dress to impress my fancy new employer.” She revealed the blue dress Alistair had liked so much.

However, instead of his smile she had grown accustomed to, his lips twisted slightly in a bewildered scowl. Obviously, unhappy with the thought of her wearing the dress for someone else. “Yes. I’m sure he’ll be very impressed.” Alistair all but pouted. She wanted to laugh at how glum he sounded, knowing that this dress was _indeed_ for him, but she kept her features neutral. 

After Madelyn payed for her new clothes. The elderly clerk neatly folded her dresses and placed them in a plain paper bag for her to carry. As they stepped outside the sun was just over head in the sky, the bright light shined in Madelyn’s eyes and she blocked the light with her hand. She turned to look at Alistair, who had been watching her. His face was contemplative, and his lips had parted as if he was going to say something, but no sound left him. Alistair simply stared at her, watched the wind gently tussle her hair around her face. She studied him as well, saw every tiny shift in his posture and expression. Alistair was curious, he was seeing _something_ in Madelyn. What that was exactly she didn’t have a clue.

They both simply stood there staring at one another. Appreciating the little things they hadn’t noticed before. The small freckles dusting Alistair’s face. A light scar on the right side of Madelyn’s chin, mostly hidden by makeup. The wind blew a gust toward them, making Alistair’s eyes flutter. Madelyn’s free hand tried to keep her hair from pooling in her face. Neither of them had broken their trance, neither of them wanted to. Madelyn felt calm. She wondered when the last time she had felt to perfectly at peace. She remembered golden rows a wheat fluttering in the wind. The sun high overhead, just as it was now, warming her skin and filling her senses of a summer gone. The moment then and the moment now consisting of nothing but wistfulness. A small and perfect moment, a sliver of a life where he wasn’t a King and she wasn’t a Bard. They were simply just Alistair and Madelyn. _Just us._

A large man with a handsome beard pushed past Alistair knocking him to the side and the both of them out of their silent reprieve. “Excuse me, I guess.” Alistair mumbled as the man with well-groomed facial hair went inside Soupe de Soie. Madelyn giggled at Alistair’s sardonic response. He first flashed her an indignant look, but it quickly cracked to an amused grin.

“Are you hungry? I haven’t eaten all day and could use a good meal.” She smiled sweetly at him.

“I’m starving.” Alistair smiled back at her, “And I know just the place.” Alistair out stretched his arm for her, “my lady.”

Madelyn instantly wove her arm into his. She smiled mischievously at Alistair, who in turn arched a curious brow at her. “I thought you wanted to call me by my name, and here you are still calling me _your_ lady. You’ve yet to use my name once.” Madelyn tutted at him, wagging her finger as a chantry sister would discipline a child.

Alistair blushed, “I suppose I haven’t.” He cleared his throat, “ _Madelyn,_ would you care to join me for a mid-morning meal?”

It was Madelyn’s turn to blush, she giggled at his formal invitation. Heart beating a little too fast for comfort, “Y-yes. Of course.” Madelyn felt foolish, _why am I acting like a love-struck teenager!_ Mustering up a calm demeanor she tilted her head, “lead the way, _Alistair.”_ She was pleased to see his blush grow brighter at the use of his name.

Alistair had led them to the Gnawed Noble Tavern. Alistair made sure to take up a table furthest away from any other visitors, near the entrance. He had also sat with his back to any would be on lookers. _He really doesn't want to be noticed._ When they were finally settled with their food ordered and mugs of ale in front of them Alistair gestured behind him to the room, “this is where the nobility come to get drunk and debate who's the most self-important of them all," Alistair sighed. "Good times," he said in a mock cheerful voice.

"Oh? A past-time of yours? You didn't mention before you were a noble." Madelyn arched her brow in question. Madelyn was pleased with his little slip of the tongue. _He'll have to tell me something._

Alistair blanched and chuckled nervously, "Well, not really. Sort of. _Makers breath,"_ he sighed again and took and large gulp from his mug of ale. Sitting his half-emptied mug down, he wiped the remaining moistness from his upper lip off with his sleeve. Alistair stares at her a moment, mulling something over in his mind. _Do I tell her? Or no?_ She assumes he is thinking. "I'm a bastard." Alistair blurts out. "And before you get any funny ideas I mean the fatherless kind. You see, my mother was a serving girl at Redcliffe castle, and she died when I was born. _Arl- **A man**_ took me in and raised me before I was sent to a chanrty. The reason he did that was because, well, because my father was..." Alistair faltered. _King Maric. Your father was King Maric, Alistair._ Madelyn waited for Alistair's reveal. He bit his lip and released it, "my father was some important noble." Alistair shrugged and looked off to the side. 

"How terrible." Madelyn feigns concern. _Not a lie, but not the whole truth._ Alistair's face was downcast, he frowned as he looked into his mug. He looked disappointed, perhaps at himself? she wondered. She placed her hand on top of his and looked him in the eye. Alistair took her hand in turn and gave her a rueful smile. 

"It is what it is. Like you said before. Plenty of sad stories in Ferelden." he said shrugging a bit, but not releasing her hand. His thumb absently drew circles across her knuckles, the sensation tickled her skin, but she didn't pull away. 

"Mine could have been much sadder without your intervention today." She looked up to him and squeezed his hand, hoping it felt reassuring. _Maybe he didn't tell me everything, but this clearly bothers him. Poor fool._

"I'm still not convinced that's true." Alistair chuckles morbidly. "You don't move like _that_ and not be able to handle yourself." 

"Well maybe." Madelyn decides to ditch the damsel in distress bit, as clearly, he wasn't buying it. "I can fight, a _little._ But I was still outnumbered, and my arms were bound." Madelyn twisted her hand in his to show the blossoming bruise creeping up her forearm. "Your help was greatly appreciated. Thank you, Alistair." Alistair was looking at her wrist. He lightly touched her bruise, careful not to hurt her. The frown on his face only grew the longer he inspected the injury. He sighed to himself and brought his eyes back to hers. He took a deep breath like he was going to say something, but he was interrupted by the server. They quickly parted their hands away allowing the server to place their food down.

A perfect golden roasted duck was sat between them, accented by buttery mashed potatoes, a basket of sour dough rolls, and a boat of gravy. Madelyn's stomach growled at the sight of the heavenly food. Her cheeks grew hot, "pardon me," she said bashfully.

Alistair chuckled at her, "let's eat before it gets cold, shall we?" He sliced a large helping of the duck and placed it on her plate, and then his own. Alistair kept quiet throughout the meal, even after Madelyn's prodding. The occasional joke got him to open up a bit, but he would just slip into silence. Nerves began to eat away at Madelyn. She wondered if she had said something that upset him. Would he not want to see her anymore? _That would be a big problem._

She sucked in a breath, "Alistair, are you alright?" Madelyn once again placed her hand on his. It startled him, but he didn't pull away, to which she was thankful for.

"Sorry, Lyn. I just got caught up in my own head is all. Don't mind me." His hand once again cradled hers and he tried to smile at her. 

Madelyn giggled, " _Lyn_?"

"Oh! Sorry! Is that not okay? I was just thinking that _hmm Madelyn seems a bit too long and formal_ and then I thought well _Lyn was short and cute_. I think it suits you." His cheeks were pink, and his goofy smile was back.

Madelyn hated nicknames. She loathed to be called _Maddie_ growing up. It made her feel childish and small. She was a grown woman with the skills of a dangerous bard. She wasn't a child, but she didn't hate Alistair calling her Lyn either. It did sound cute coming from him, and if the King wanted to give her a nickname who was she to argue. "Okay, then I get to give you a nickname as well! It is a whole letter longer than mine anyway." Alistair chuckled at her as she started to think of proper nicknames for him. She paused for a moment and tapped her finger on her lip, "Ali? Uh Maker, no. Not that. I hate that." Madelyn scrunched her face up at her own uncreativeness.

Alistair threw his head back in laughter, "What's wrong with Ali? I kind of like it." He asked joyfully through bursts of giggles.

"It just doesn't suit you, not at all! You don't look like an _Ali._ That doesn't convey your strength or chivalry. It doesn't even match your humor. _Alistair_ has a much better sound to it. Calling you Ali seems foolish." She pouted, unsure as to why she felt so strongly about something incredibly silly.

"Hmm I haven't convinced you I am an utter fool just yet, have I?" He raised an incredulous brow at her.

"Not one bit," she lied while buttering a roll. "I prefer Alistair just fine and I'll be sticking with it. Thank you." She bit into her roll and chewed defiantly at him. It caused him to let out a hearty laugh. The rest of their meal was filled with light banter, laughter, and the occasional touch. She watched for opportunities to touch him. Sometimes Madelyn would lay her hand down near him and he would take it absentmindedly. The first time she tried it when he realized what he'd done he let her hand go and apologized. But the second time Madelyn didn't let him let go, he raised his brows at her but didn't fight her gentle grip. The blush that grew on his face made him look incredibly adorable. Once Alistair had accidentally dripped gravy on his chin, Madelyn was quick with a cloth to remove it before it dripped. She let her cloth covered fingers linger on his chin and she openly stared at his parted lips, licking her own in response. She was pleased to see his Adam's apple bob up and down as he swallowed. Boldness overcame her, and she traced her foot up his calf. His eyes locked on to hers and she was delightfully surprised to find him repeat the gesture to her. He held her hand as his foot slowly came up her calf. The feel of it sent a thrill up her spine and made her stomach flutter.

When they finished their meal, the server came to pick up the dishes and left just as quickly. Madelyn pulled out her coin purse to pay, but Alistair put his hand on hers to stop her. "Hang on, I'll pay for our meal." He reached into his pockets to pulled out his own coin purse. 

"Don't even think about it! I was the one who invited you out _and_ I'd like to give you a proper _thank you_ for saving me! I'll pay," she insisted.

"First of all, you have already thanked me far too much. Second, I'm pretty sure my rash actions put you in more danger, therefore, I'm paying as an apology to you for almost getting you killed!" Alistair slapped 3 sovereigns on the table with a triumphant _HA!_

Their server came back and placed a sweet Ferelden pudding in between them with two spoons. Madelyn and Alistair exchange confused looks. "Excuse me, but we didn't order this, did we?"

"Ya didn't," they agreed. "Someone paid yer tab an' also added the puddin for ya. Complements from that gentleman o'er there." They pointed towards the back of the tavern at an older balding man sitting in the corner. He was watching them. 

Alistair and Madelyn both waved to him in thanks, he held his mug of ale up towards them and drank. Finishing his mug he stood and walked out of sight down the hall were the rooms were. Madelyn recognized him instantly, Master Ignacio, a middle man for the Crows. Her adoptive father, Lord Pascal, had many dealings with Ignacio. Even though he wasn't an in particularly dangerous man, he was well connected with the Crows, which made him a dangerous enough. Clearly the gesture was meant for her, as he and Lord Pascal were good friends, _well as good of friends as one can be in this kind of business._ She glanced toward Alistair, his body had gone ridged and his faced paled. Alistair must know the man as well, _what was Ferelden's beloved King getting himself caught up with these kinds of people?_

Alistair darted his eyes to her and he nervously laughs. "He's a friend of a friend. We uh- helped him with some work a while back." He didn't say what he did for Ignacio, but Madelyn knew that it wouldn't have been anything nice. "Anyway, I guess that solves our _who's paying_ debate," Alistair nervously chuckled.

"That was very nice of him." Madelyn said neutrally. 

"Yes, I-" Alistair was cut off by the door swinging open, patrons came waltzing in and brought the sounds of Chantry bells ringing in the distance telling all of Denerim that it was midday. Alistair slapped his hands on the table and stood, his eyes wide, "Maker, is it noon already?" Alistair's eyes flashed between Madelyn and the closing entrance door. "Forgive me, my lady- Lyn! But I have my duties I must attend to."

"Oh! I apologize for keeping you so late." Madelyn stood with him.

"No, please don't apologize for anything," Alistair took a hurried step towards her. He held both of her hands in his, his eyes stayed on their hands. "I have enjoyed our morning together far more than I probably should have." Alistair lifted his eyes to meet hers. Madelyn felt a blush creeping on her skin, she tried to will it away to no avail. "I'm glad to suffer any tardiness punishment that may befall me." His lopsided smile made Madelyn's lips curl up uncontrollably.

The fluttering in her stomach made her feel light headed, she tightened her grip on Alistair's hands. _Just to keep steady. I must have stood too quickly,_ she assured herself. "Well, may the Maker turn his gaze on you, and save you from a hard punishment," Madelyn laughed nervously. 

Madelyn slowly walked Alistair to the door. He turned back towards her, still holding her hand, "Will I see you again? I mean- your job- it's not going to take you else where is it?" 

"No, I'll be staying in Denerim. I'm actually going to rent a room here. If you ever wanted to find me again. I'd very much like to see you again." Madelyn looked away from him for a second, her bashful behavior coming far too quickly for her own linking. "Only for a few days. I'll have more permanent lodgings once I start." She tilted her head back towards Alistair, peaking at his face. He wore an attractive blush, making Madelyn feel a little better about her own state.

"Wonderful! May I come see you tomorrow morning?" He asked hopefully.

"Of course," was her speedy reply.

Alistair beamed at her, he took her right hand and gently brought it to his lips for a soft kiss. Madelyn grinned happily at him, she felt the heat burning her cheeks but that didn't dim her mood this time as Alistair wore a handsome shade of red himself. Her boldness returning Madelyn placed her hand on Alistair's shoulder and stood on her tip toes and brushed a chaste kiss on his cheek near his lips. His stubble tickled her, but he was warm and smelled of pine trees and something distinctly masculine. When she landed back on her feet she saw Alistair's eyes flutter and his blush grew the longer he stared at her. " _Maker's breath,"_ he whispered. They just gazed at each other for a moment, both slap happy from their shy kisses. "I'll see you tomorrow then." Alistair said in a wistful daze. 

He regretfully released her hands after a moment and bashfully waves her goodbye. Madelyn waves back at him and watches him leave. His strides are unhurried, giving Madelyn ample time to watch his arse sway back and forth. After he was quite a distance away Alistair suddenly stopped and turned back towards the Gnawed Noble Tavern to see her still standing in the door way watching him. Madelyn blushed heavily at being caught. She raised her arm timidly and gave another small wave. Even at their distance she could see Alistair's grin taking over his face, he waved back at her then turned back around and, with far more confidence, strutted out of Demerim's Market Distract. Madelyn wanted to be annoyed at his sudden cockiness, but she couldn't muster up the effort. She watched him leave and sighed when he had gotten completely out of sight. 

Madelyn slowly turned back into the Gnawed Noble Tavern and was startled to see their server from looking at her and far too close for comfort. "Oi, that bloke who paid fer yer food asked ta speak with ya. He's in the first room on the left."

"Thank you, Ser." The server nodded and turned back to their duties. Madelyn took a steadying breath and forced her face to become neutral. Casually she walked her way towards Master Ignacio's room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao I've already realized my mistake in saying I'm going to keep to a regular schedule  
> I'll try to get a chapter out once every other week and I'll do my best
> 
> Also this is the blue dress I was trying to describe (clothes are haaaard)  
> https://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=https%3A%2F%2Fcdn.tobi.com%2Fproduct_images%2Flg%2F1%2Flight-blue-helena-halter-maxi-dress.jpg&imgrefurl=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.tobi.com%2Fdk%2Fproduct%2F70500-tobi-helena-halter-maxi-dress%3Fcolor_id%3D101233&tbnid=qvi3kfj388gXVM&vet=12ahUKEwiHuZj7icjrAhUQD60KHa97AMoQMyhZegUIARDiAg..i&docid=3_gT2ZFvO_lntM&w=800&h=1200&itg=1&q=halter%20top%20dress&ved=2ahUKEwiHuZj7icjrAhUQD60KHa97AMoQMyhZegUIARDiAg


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